Needs, Wants, Desires
by Onesimus42
Summary: Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes have a frank discussion about the staff and themselves.
1. Chapter 1

_**I have been negligent in my own writing for the past few weeks because I've been enjoying the explosion of Chelsie fics lately. I have been reading and enjoying all of them although I admit to being spotty in my reviews. The idea for this fic has been germinating for a little while, and I finally got up the courage to write it down. I hope you enjoy it as well. For this timeline, I use the 'official' one in which Elsie comes to Downton in 1902 (10 years before series 1 begins) initially as head housemaid.**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own these guys and earn nothing from them but the enjoyment of writing. I would love to adopt them if for no other reason than to put them to better use than their current owners.**_

**Downton Abbey 1907**

Elsie Hughes was annoyed. Deep down she knew that she didn't have a right to be so upset, but that had never stopped her before. It wasn't that Mr. Carson shouldn't direct the male staff as he wished, but for something this big, he would usually at least inform her a few days ahead of time if not actually ask for and consider her opinion. The part that bothered her the most was that this seemed to be a somewhat regular occurrence, even if it wasn't actually scheduled. As far as she was concerned, if he would only give her enough notice, she could have given the maids the evening off as well. After all, it wasn't as if the family was here. They could have all gone to Ripon for a well deserved bit of rest. As it was, it made it look as though the men were being favored over the women, and that made her look like a tyrant. She didn't mind being seen as the stern one, but it irked her for the men to be given a favor when the women were not.

They had finished their dinner sans nearly all the male members of the staff, excepting Mr. Carson and a few of the younger hall boys. He was even now ensuring that the upstairs was secure for the evening. Since the family was away for the rest of the week at a house party, there was not even a need to have someone stationed at the front door to await their return. She expected him to come back to her parlor for their typical evening ritual. There would be no left over wine to share, but certainly they would have at least a cup of tea together. For the three years that she had been housekeeper, he had made a habit initially of coming to her parlor or she to his pantry every night. Quickly, the ritual had extended so that if they had any free time in the evenings, such as when the family was away, he would come to her parlor, usually reading while she knit or mended. She had a difficult time settling down just to read, instead she usually kept her hands and her mind occupied in some task or other. Often enough, he would set his book aside, and they would quietly discuss the day, issues they were having with the staff, or other things that had nothing to do with their work. She looked forward to these times far too much for her peace of mind. They made her feel human and very useful. He was quite possibly the only person she felt that she could relax completely around, and she knew that he was more himself in these moments than at any other time. That was why being upset with him on this night of all nights bothered her even more. She had looked forward to this week that the family would be away almost eagerly so that they could have these evenings together. Why tonight of all nights must she be so annoyed?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft opening of the door. Mr. Carson backed into the room carrying a tray with tea things along with a small plate of biscuits. She smiled at the biscuits which she was sure that he'd intended primarily for himself. He'd been rather comically disappointed when their dinner pudding had consisted of just raspberries and cream. Her small smile was not lost on him, "I hope you don't mind that I took the liberty of securing provisions for us, Mrs. Hughes. I felt that I at least would need a bit of tea and some more sustenance for the evening."

"I certainly don't mind Mr. Carson," she answered as she cleared an area on her side table for him to place the tray, "however, I hope you don't expect too many of those biscuits. I'm still rather hungry myself."

Annoyed as she was, she still had to bite her lip to not laugh outright at the look of disappointment that flashed across his face and at his blustering, "Well, now, I…, not that you're quite welcome to as many as you'd like, but I was rather hoping for a few of these myself."

"Mr. Carson, forgive me for teasing you about your sweet tooth," she smiled, "I was quite satisfied with our dinner. I don't think that I'll eat more than one of those biscuits."

"Now, Mrs. Hughes," he said, "I don't have a sweet tooth. I just happen to be rather fond of biscuits."

"And chocolate," she said with raised eyebrows.

"And chocolate," he conceded with a small inclination of his head.

"And cake," her eyes crinkled with a smile.

"And cake," he agreed with the slightest of smiles playing on his lips.

"And apple tart," she finished with a brisk nod.

"And apple tart," he conceded again, but this time with a small laugh, "You win, Mrs. Hughes, I do have an abominable sweet tooth. You could have complete control over me for the very small price of a pastry. Please don't give me away."

_If only that were true, _she thought with an inward sigh. Out loud she merely said, "I assure you that your secret is quite safe with me."

He nodded his thanks and then turned to pour out the tea while she made her way to her settee to calm her suddenly quickened pulse.

He brought her her tea and a small plate containing two biscuits with a flourish and small bow. She took it from him gratefully and tasted the tea only to see that he had it just right as always. She had to give it to him, years of making and serving tea had made him an expert. He could make her tea to her liking even better than she could herself. It had exactly the right amount of sweetness and milk and no more. He was quite a handy man to have around for that reason if no other.

Once he'd settled himself in the armchair with his own tea and his plate of four biscuits she noticed with an inward smile, she took a deep breath and looked at him squarely trying to decide how to begin.

Glancing over at her grimly, he put his cup on his saucer and placed both on the side table. "Mrs. Hughes, I have gotten the distinct impression that you have wished to speak with me all day and not necessarily pleasantly. Please, say whatever you wish so that we can enjoy the rest of the evening. I'd never have thought you afraid to say anything to me."

"I most certainly am not afraid to say anything to you, Mr. Carson," she said briskly, "It's just that in this particular circumstance, I do not really have the right…"

"That's certainly not stopped your tongue before," he cut her off with a short laugh.

Her eyes flashed dangerously, and she threw caution to the wind. "Very well, Mr. Carson," she clipped out tightly, "I am upset that you chose to allow the men of the household the night off for a trip to Ripon without informing me. I would have gladly allowed the maids off as well if I'd only had advance notice."

He blew a harsh breath out of his nose, "That would never have done, Mrs. Hughes. The maids could certainly have not gone on this trip with the boys."

"I don't see why not," she said voice rising with her anger, "the women work just as hard, if not harder," she fixed him with a glare, "than the men. They deserve a bit of fun as well."

He looked at her in astonishment for a moment before rising to stand in front of the fire, "Not this type of fun."

"I'm afraid I don't see your meaning," she said, "Mr. Carson, surely you can see that allowing the men a night away and not the women makes me look like a tyrant and you like jolly Saint Nick."

He turned back toward her for a moment so that she could see the roll of his eyes and scoffed, "I am not jolly Saint Nick. I am simply able to recognize the need for the men to get away from Downton from time to time."

"You say that they need to be away from time to time. Do not the women need to be away from time to time as well?" She watched him curiously as she thought she saw a blush start across his cheeks, surely not, he must just be standing too close to the fire.

"I-, I'm not sure that the women need to be away in quite this manner, Mrs. Hughes," he answered hesitantly.

So that was a blush on his cheeks. What on earth could have him so flustered by this conversation? She was even more curious now. "In what manner is that, Mr. Carson?"

He turned from her again, then back to look at her, then straightened his waistcoat, then tugged at his collar, then turned back to the fire, "There are times when men need-, that is, I notice that tensions seem to be rising, and I realize that, well, a trip to Ripon is in order. The men need to have a form of release, and…."

Surely he couldn't mean what she thought he meant. It was too… And he planned this for them! "Mr. Carson…" she began but he cut her off sharply.

"Mrs. Hughes, I really don't wish to discuss this further, but surely you can understand that it would be better for the men to go to Ripon than have issues here or even in Downton village."

She was, unusually for her, at a loss for words for several moments. He eventually relaxed and sat back down, picking up his tea and biscuits.

Finally, she turned to him with the question that was uppermost in her mind, "One thing I truly don't understand, Mr. Carson, is why you don't go to Ripon with them? Do you not have needs as well?"

_**Reviews are welcome and appreciated. Please let me know what you think.**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Here's the beginning of the M-ness. I'm definitely skirting the edge with this one. A little bit of a different situation for Charles and Elsie.**_

_**Disclaimer: Still don't own them, but if they ever go up for sale, I'll be first in line.**_

Charles had unfortunately just taken a sip of tea when Mrs. Hughes asked her rather surprising question. It burned a trail straight to his lungs, and he started coughing uncontrollably. Mrs. Hughes very helpfully and perhaps a touch too vigorously clapped him on the back repeatedly. By the time he was able to breathe normally again, he had almost convinced himself that he'd not heard the question that he thought he had. She stood by his chair with her hand on his back watching him with a distracting mixture of concern and amusement. When he straightened and looked over at her questioningly, she let her hand drop to her side, and he thought he spied the faintest of pink tinges to her cheeks. Once she'd assured herself he would be well, she moved back to the settee. He took another sip of tea which she gratefully allowed him to swallow before repeating her inquiry.

"I did not mean to startle you, Mr. Carson, but my question remains; do you not have needs as well?"

He should leave. This conversation was certainly not appropriate. He should just get up and walk out. They could each go to their own bed and in the morning they could pretend that this entire conversation had not occurred. That would be the proper thing to do, and Charles Carson always did the proper thing. Which was why it was so difficult to understand exactly why he did the polar opposite of the proper thing; he answered her.

"Yes; Mrs. Hughes. I have needs as well."

Her breath caught, and she stole a quick glance at him before finding the fire immensely interesting. "Then why do you not go to Ripon with the other men. I have never known you in the years that I've been here to make that trip with them."

He shifted uneasily in the chair. "I could go at any time."

She watched him curiously for a moment, "But you don't."

He met her eyes briefly before turning his own gaze to the fire. "No; I don't," he paused long enough that she was sure he was finished with the conversation, "Mrs. Hughes, there comes a time in a man's life that who one is with is more important than what one is doing."

He felt her eyes on him as he watched the fire, hoping that she would not ask the natural next question. Surely she could guess who he wanted to be with. After all, he was here with her, wasn't he? To voice aloud that he would rather be here with her drinking tea and eating biscuits instead of in Ripon fulfilling his baser needs was more than he felt able to stand. He was sure that the conversation and the evening could still be righted if she would not ask that question. At least he was sure until she made a comment instead.

"Women have needs as well, Mr. Carson."

She had said it so quietly that he could almost believe he imagined it until she met his somewhat stunned gaze levelly. He had heard exactly what he thought he heard, and she had meant what he thought she meant. Goodness, that fire was hot. He was smothering. Perhaps he should remove his jacket, or his tie, or his collar. He shook himself mentally and almost chuckled out loud. Disrobing in any way would most certainly not be a good idea.

As though he was being pulled irresistibly into a whirlpool, he continued the conversation, "And how do they meet those needs, Mrs. Hughes?"

She looked at him again, and he noticed how much darker her eyes seemed. Turning away from him to the fire, she answered softly, "We women learn to take care of ourselves."

His mouth was suddenly as dry as cotton, and he felt a little light-headed as blood rushed from his head to lower portions of his body. He closed his eyes against the images that suddenly filled his mind. Her hands touching herself, all the secret places he longed to explore. Imagining her at night, he could see in his mind's eye the tangle of the sheets as she sweated and writhed in them; her hands lifting the hem of her nightdress, trailing up her thigh to touch the moist curls between her legs. His imagination was so vivid that he could almost feel the moistness against his knuckles and the tickle of the curly hairs on his hand. She probably started gently, perhaps with one hand touching her breast, rolling her nipple between forefinger and thumb, just as he would wish to do, although he'd rather cover it with his mouth and roll his tongue over the tip. Then as she became more and more excited, she would gradually increase the strength and speed of her strokes until finally she would tense all over before falling limp. She would lie still and spent, maybe drift off to sleep only to wake later chilled and cover herself. Did she think of anyone while she touched herself? Did she imagine a man's hands or tongue covering her and probing all of the sensitive places? Did she whisper a name as she found her release? Perhaps it was his name on her lips just as he'd imagined it in a gasp against his ear.

~_c-C-e~_

Elsie couldn't believe what she'd just said, just implied. Never mind that it was true. It was not something that one discussed, but somehow when he admitted to her that he had needs it seemed to open up the conversation to anything. Their voices had softened so that surely no one but each other could hear this strange conversation even if the door was wide open, which it was not, or the grate was uncovered, which it certainly was not. And then, what he'd said, that who one was with was more important than what one was doing. Did that mean that he would rather be here with her drinking tea and eating biscuits than fulfilling his needs? She fervently hoped that was the case. He had been so quiet since her last comment. Glancing over at him nervously, she saw that his eyes were closed. Then his tongue darted out to lick his lips, and he opened his eyes to meet her gaze with dilated pupils. His voice was a harsh whisper when he said, "Women are not alone in taking care of themselves, Mrs. Hughes."

She stared at him dumbfounded for a moment before looking away to the fire. Her mouth went very dry and moisture rushed to other parts as she suddenly had a very real visual image of him touching parts of himself that she had wickedly imagined only in the darkest part of the night. She could very clearly see him slipping his hand beneath the hem of his pyjama trousers to touch himself. What did he feel like? She could almost feel his hot, throbbing length in her hand. She knew without even a sliver of doubt that he would be substantial, just as the rest of him was large and sturdy she knew that part of him would be as well. Besides, she thought almost giddily, everyone knew what they said about the size of a man's nose. When he touched himself, she wondered if he merely stroked hard and fast seeking release as quickly as he could find it or did he imagine a woman's hand on him; exploring the feel of him, the firmness and warmth under her hand. He might trace his fingers around the tip and then trail them lightly down to the base, gradually increasing in speed and strength until finally he grabbed himself firmly to finish with a few quick hard strokes. Was there a name that came to his mind and lips when he found his release? Perhaps he moaned out her name as she had dreamed so often. He would lie then, spent and still, drifting off to sleep and then waking later to cover himself and clean off the sticky evidence of his release.

Her breathing had quickened as she imagined this. She opened her eyes to see that he was watching with a strange expression on his face. She licked her lips, and his breath caught, eyes captivated by her tongue. When she withdrew her tongue back into her mouth, his eyes lifted to meet hers steadily, "Perhaps, Mrs. Hughes, we should help each other."

_**Reviews are welcome and appreciated. **_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Thank you all for the lovely reviews for the last chapter. I have to admit that I was a little nervous about it. I hope you are not disappointed with this one, but Charles & Elsie wouldn't be Charles & Elsie if they didn't approach this logically. **_

_**Disclaimer: I still do not own these guys but continue to believe that they have way more fun with me than with their current owners.**_

Elsie's breath caught in her throat. Certainly he wasn't suggesting what she thought he was, was he? But then she took in the hungry look of his eyes as he watched her expression carefully and knew that he was serious. She should end this conversation now. She should leave or better yet, ask him to leave. This parlor was her sanctuary after all. She stood on shaky legs and smoothed her dress down with trembling hands before walking to the door. The click of the key in the lock seemed very loud in the room, and she leaned against the doorframe briefly before turning back to look at him. His shoulders were slumped with his elbows on his knees and face buried in his hands. Did he think she'd left? Silly man, she would never, could never, leave him. She crossed quickly to his side and placed her hand softly on his shoulder. He started and then all but leapt to his feet, turning to her with a dazed expression. She took his hand and tugged him closer to the settee before sitting down herself. She stared up and up at him until he sat down rather abruptly and turned toward her with one arm on the back of the settee.

Once he was settled somewhat comfortably and obviously waiting for her to take the next step, she began, "Mr. Carson…,"

"Please," he said, hand gently touching her forearm, "If we are to discuss something like this, I think that first names at least are in order."

She laughed softly, tension starting to dissipate just a little, "At least that surely, Charles."

His eyes closed for the briefest of moments before opening again to look at her warmly, "Forgive me if I'd rather not use Bess. Somehow that's never seemed quite right to me. May I call you Elisabeth?"

Her smile widened, "Is that why you've always called me by my last name? I should say that Bess doesn't fit. It was never my name until I went into service. All my family and friends have always called me Elsie. I should like for you to call me that, if you will?"

"Elsie," he said softly, and she found that she had never liked her name as well as when he said it, "Why then did you allow everyone to call you Bess?"

"Did I have a choice? The mistress at my first place of service didn't like Elsie. She preferred Bess, and so I became Bess, until I became Mrs. Hughes, that is."

He smiled at her and then looked down at the pattern on the settee for a moment before returning his gaze to her and continuing, "Elsie, I think that we are avoiding the topic at hand. I would like to apologize for letting the conversation drift into.., into…, well into what it drifted into." He gave a soft laugh and nervously rubbed the top of his ear.

"Why should you apologize?" she asked, confused, "It was my persistence that caused the conversation to drift."

"That it was," he agreed, "but I am the more senior member of the staff, so therefore it is my responsibility to show more restraint. I hope that I have not made you terribly uncomfortable."

"Not terribly, but I am uncomfortable," she said, smiling at the dismayed look on his face, "Will you pretend that you are completely comfortable with this conversation?"

His relief was evident, "I confess that I am not. I have never had such a frank discussion before."

"Charles," she said savoring the name on her tongue, "We are friends, and I think we have both already said much more than we ever thought we would. Would it not be almost worse at this point to stop?"

"Yes, Elsie; I believe it would," he said clearly and a bit more confidently, "Very well. Do you understand what I am offering?"

"I'm not sure that I do completely," she said and then decided to clarify herself to prevent upsetting him, "that is, I know that you're offering to 'help me' as I would 'help you' I believe, but how far exactly would this help extend?"

His eyes clouded briefly, and she saw the faint pink tinge return to his face before he answered, "However far you would desire. I would, of course, bow to your wishes in any way. That would only be proper. I could never take advantage of you Elsie," he finished softly.

She laughed and shook her head again, "Charles, there is certainly nothing proper about an arrangement of this sort. But thank you. I believe that I could only ever feel this safe with you."

"Elsie," he said passing a shaking hand over his face, rubbing his eyebrow with his thumb, "If this bothers you, offends you, then perhaps we should end this conversation now."

"No," she answered just a bit too forcefully, "Charles, I have no desire to end this conversation, and I can truthfully say that I want to go beyond, far beyond, just conversation. But this is not something I've ever done before. Forgive me if I'm a bit hesitant."

"There is nothing to forgive. If I wanted someone who wasn't hesitant, I would have gone to Ripon," he said with a small laugh.

She watched him for a long moment and his eyes lifted from their study of the pattern of the settee to meet hers once more before he breathed out his next words, "Elsie, sometimes conversation is over-rated."

With that pronouncement, he captured her lips with his and she thought that surely she would die from the pure pleasure of the warmth of his lips moving over her own. She stopped herself just short of laughing from the thought that this was nothing she'd imagined. It was more, so very much more. It would be so easy to get lost in this pleasure, this moment, in him, but she reined in her racing heart and thoughts and pushed on his chest even as she turned her head away. His response was immediate and gratifying. He pulled back and released his grip on her upper arms. Leaning back against the arm of the settee, he started to apologize, "Elsie, I'm sorry. I know that I over…"

She cut him off quickly, "No, Charles, it's not that you were doing anything wrong. Please don't apologize. It's just that, well, if we do that, if you do that to me, I don't believe I'll be able to think. And we need to be very clear on where we stand. I have questions that need answers."

He nodded and ran his fingers through his hair, "Ask away."

"How will we do this?"

He barked a short laugh, "I think that I could better show you than tell you."

She batted his chest and laughed herself, "I meant the logistics. Will we only do this at night? I think that would be best. Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes during the day…"

"Charles and Elsie only at night," he agreed with a nod, "That would likely be best. I suppose that leaves assignations in the wine cellar out, then?"

She laughed for a moment before it struck her that he must have imagined such a thing to mention it so quickly. Was it possible that he could have had the same thoughts and dreams about her that she had had about him? That was a sobering thought, and one that she tucked away to think more about later before moving on to the concern that was uppermost in her mind.

She paused to look at him seriously, "Have you thought that there might be unwanted consequences?"

"You mean a child?" he asked, "Yes, there is of course always that possibility, but you mustn't say unwanted, unintended perhaps, but never unwanted. A child could never be unwanted."

"Charles," she said seriously, "it would be me who would have to deal with those consequences. You could deny…"

Her words were cut off by the fierce look in his eyes, "You would think that of me; that I would leave you to deal with that on your own? Elsie, if that were to happen, it would simply mean a quick trip to Gretna Green, and my hope that you would at least consider the name Grace if it were a girl."

She took a deep breath, "I'm sorry, Charles. You're right. I wasn't thinking. I believe I know your character well enough by now to know that you would never abandon me."

He nodded at her gratefully, and she added softly, "I think Grace is a lovely name."

He found the pattern on the settee immensely interesting for a moment before looking back at her with hooded eyes, "Elsie, you do realize that there are many ways I could please you, and you me. We do not have to do everything."

"I know that," she agreed, "but I believe once we begin it will be difficult to stop. It's always easy to go just one step farther."

His gaze turned thoughtful and he asked, "How far have you…? I mean, have you ever…?"

Her cheeks turned furiously red, but she refused to balk at the answer, "I have never gotten past touching a man and being touched. It was all rather hurried and quite a bit of clothing was in the way," she finished in a rush.

He cleared his throat, "I see. Well, as I said, I would let you direct me in how much or little you might wish of me. I only ask that you would…"

She took a deep breath and placed her fingertips over his lips to stop him, "Charles, as I said, I believe that once we've started it would be very difficult to stop. I admit to you that I would be nervous, but if we begin I think that it is best if we understood from the outset that we would, well, know each other in every way."

She had left the tips of her fingers on his lips while she spoke and was suddenly fascinated by the soft warmth of his lips under her hand. She closed her hand, letting the tips of her finger brush across his lips one last time before letting her hand drop to her side.

His eyes had closed and his breathing had grown shallow and rapid. She watched him curiously. When he opened his eyes again the hungry look that was already growing familiar was there. "Elsie, have all your questions been answered?"

She thought for a moment. They hadn't. Not really. She had dozens of other questions, but the reality was that the answer was him. She either trusted him or she didn't. If she didn't, she shouldn't even be having this conversation. If she did, then none of her questions mattered. There was never really any question where her trust lay. "Yes, Charl…."

Her answer was cut off by a deep kiss as he drew her to him with one hand on the nape of her neck and the other on her hip. Her last coherent thought was that she trusted him and only him with her body and heart.

_**Reviews are welcome and appreciated. I promise that they will help each other more next chapter.**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**This chapter is a little on the long side, but I didn't want to be any more of a tease by ending it before they 'helped' each other. Thank you so much for the reviews and I hope you enjoy this as well. By far the most descriptive I've ever been so please excuse me while I go blush.**_

_**Disclaimer: Still not mine, but just think what could happen if they were.**_

Charles's mind had stopped working properly when she placed her hand over his mouth, and then she had almost caressed his lips with just the tips of her fingers. He was able to register at least that she wanted to continue what they'd begun. Before he lost all ability to reason, he managed to make sure one last time that she didn't want to retreat. At her affirmative answer, he felt as though a dam had broken inside him. He'd never felt anything as wonderful as her lips under his, or the skin of her neck in his hand, or the curve of her hip as he pulled her closer to him. His very vivid dreams did not even approach how delightful it felt to be holding her in his arms. Her responsiveness amazed him. Merely darting his tongue against her lips had granted him entry. She'd teased earlier about his sweet tooth, but surely no dessert he'd ever had was as sweet as this.

It was suddenly very frustrating to have so much fabric between his hands and her skin. Lifting his hand to the neck of her dress, he pulled at the buttons, popping one or two in his eagerness, so that he could trace her neck with the tips of his fingers. He felt her rapid pulse and was sure that his own matched and likely outpaced it. Loathe as he was to abandon her lips, he nibbled his way along her jaw to the sensitive skin behind her ear. The soft gasp in his own ear and quickened breaths were all he needed to spur him on to further exploration. His sense was not so clouded that he sucked the skin there. He merely nipped it lightly with his teeth and then soothed with his tongue. Pushing the neckline of her dress out of the way he drew the skin over her collarbone into his mouth gently before working his way back up her neck to her lips and the sweet taste of her mouth. He pushed her back on the settee as he tried, if possible, to deepen the kiss, pressing himself against her so that he was sure she could feel his growing need. She shifted uncomfortably against him and her lips grimaced against his mouth. He pulled back to look at her in bewilderment.

"Have I hurt you?"

"No, but this blasted settee has. The arm is digging into my back," she said in breathless frustration.

He chuckled against her forehead and placed his hand behind her back to cushion her. "I agree that this is not the most comfortable location, but it's not as though we've much choice."

The tips of her fingers were tracing the skin over his collar in such a distracting way that he had to force himself to concentrate on her next words.

"Is that really true? Charles, do you have any idea how many bedrooms this house has?"

"No, I don't believe that I do, actually. But what does it matter? It's not as though any of those rooms were ready for use. Excepting our rooms, of course, and Elsie, I don't think I'll be able to be quiet enough for us to go to one of our rooms."

She smiled at his last comment and then said, "There are two rooms ready, Charles. You forget that I am the housekeeper."

"Surely you didn't actually plan this!" he said in mock astonishment and amusement.

"Of course not!" she rolled her eyes at him, "Don't you remember that Master James and Master Patrick were to come to stay two weeks ago and sent their regrets at the last minute?"

"Yes, but…" he began puzzled.

"Well, I was a bit put out after the maids had to take so much time getting their rooms ready. I decided that I would just leave them for their next visit. No one would be the wiser."

Understanding was beginning to dawn and he couldn't help teasing her, "Mrs. Hughes, that is not the proper way to do things."

She looked at him in disbelief before poking him in the chest, "Well, if you want to do things in the proper way…"

He cut her off with another kiss which he was gratified to see left her speechless. Once he'd ended any silly argument that she'd planned on starting, he began to re-fasten the buttons that were left on her dress. She lifted an eyebrow at him in question, and he asked, "Master James' room is the last on that corridor, I believe?"

At her nod, he said, "I'll meet you there in five minutes. Once I've settled things down here."

She looked at the door and then the floor before answering, "I'll wait, and we can go up together."

He was a little embarrassed to have to shake his head, "If I'm to be able to walk up there comfortably, I need a few moments alone to…, to relax."

She looked at him in confusion for a moment before she understood. Her eyes darted quickly down to his lap before lifting to meet his again with a faint tinge to her cheeks, "Ohh. I never thought. Well, I'll be waiting upstairs, then."

He watched her walk out the door and tried to push his thoughts down other paths so that he could gain a little bit more control. He took a deep, ragged breath and thought about where this night had gone. It had not been a lie when he told Elsie, even in his mind he savored her name, that he would rather be here than in Ripon. But their conversation earlier and his vivid imagination had him so aroused that he could barely think and that would be dangerous at this point. The prospect of being able to be with Elsie and having what he could have had in Ripon nearly overwhelmed him. He corrected himself, what he and Elsie were going to do was nothing like what he could have had in Ripon. In Ripon at best he would have found an easy woman who was looking to scratch an itch. With Elsie, no matter what he pretended, it would always be more. He was desperate that she be satisfied as well, and if he lost control that would almost certainly not happen. Realizing that this line of thought had calmed him enough to go up, he rose and blew out the lamp before starting up the stairs.

No one was left in the servants' hall. The few maids left were already in their rooms. Mr. Watson, Miss O'Brien, and the girls' governess were all with the family and the men were, of course, in Ripon. As he started up the stairs, he was suddenly gripped with the fear that Elsie might have had second thoughts and have gone on to her room. He didn't know what he would do if she had. No, he did know, but he really did not want to have to find his release that way tonight. He decided that he should never have let her out of his sight as he hurried his pace up the steps. Stopping in front of the door a little breathless from his exertion, he was at a quandary as to what to do. Should he just walk in? Or should he knock? He was saved by Elsie opening the door softly and giving him a welcoming smile.

Stepping through the door quickly he shut it behind him and turned to her with relief. He looked around the room and noticed that she'd already turned the bed down. Swallowing quickly, he turned back to her and saw that she had loosened her hair as well. Drawing her into his arms, he kissed her forehead gently and said the first thing that came into his mind, "Claret."

"Beg pardon?"

"Your hair. It's the color of claret. It looks darker when it's up."

He heard the smile in her voice with her next words, "Is everything wine or spirits with you?"

"Not quite everything," he chuckled, "I'm glad you're here. I thought for a moment you might have second thoughts."

"Never, Charles," she whispered into his chest, "we've made our decision, and I want this very much." She pulled back to look at him seriously, "You need to stop worrying that I'm going to bolt at any moment."

"Very well," he said, lifting his hand to stroke her cheek with his thumb, "I stand by my promise that we'll only go as far as you wish, but unless you tell me to stop, I'll assume you want to continue."

"And how will we continue, now that we have that large comfortable bed instead of the small, uncomfortable settee?" she asked with a teasing smile.

"Well," he answered back in the same light tone, "we could start by getting a little more comfortable. I think there's far too much fabric between your skin and my hands."

"What few buttons you've left on my dress shouldn't be that difficult for you to deal with," she said as she smoothed her hand over his shoulders to push his jacket off.

"I didn't pop that many!" he exclaimed, "But I am sorry. I'll sew them back on for you, if you wish."

He'd shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it toward the chair in the corner as he spoke. She quickly went to work on the buttons of his waistcoat while he lifted his hands to the buttons of her dress.

"You don't think the butler sewing buttons on the housekeeper's dress might elicit some comment?"

"I could do it when we're alone in your parlor," he suggested.

"Charles, there are things other than sewing buttons on dresses that I'd like for you to be doing if we're alone in my parlor."

His breath caught at the thought that she was already planning future encounters. He paused in unbuttoning her dress to bend and kiss her deeply again. His lips moved from her mouth to explore her neck, and he quickly found the spot behind her left ear again that had excited her so much earlier. After a few moments, he realized that she had stopped unbuttoning his waistcoat and was actually clutching it tightly in her hands. He pulled away from his assault on her neck to whisper, "Elsie, I really would like to get my tie and collar off. They're very confining."

She shook her head slightly and reached up to unravel his tie which she used to pull him down for a long kiss filled with promise. Then she worked his collar loose and tossed both it and his tie toward the armchair. She handed the studs to him, and he reached behind him to get them somewhere near the table by the door, distracted by the kisses she was placing just above his shirt. By the time he was able to get her dress fully unbuttoned and ready to push off her shoulders she had both waistcoat and shirt unbuttoned. He stepped back to remove both along with his undershirt while she let her dress fall to the floor. With a groan, he grasped her waist and pulled her to him, burying his lips against the swell of her breasts over her corset. She undid his belt, but he stopped her before she could loose the fastenings of his trousers. She looked at him in confusion for a moment, but he distracted her by relentlessly attacking the spot behind her left ear. By the time she'd recovered her equilibrium, he had her corset undone and thrown as far away as he could get it.

Cupping her bottom in his hands, he drew her tight against him, reveling in the feel of her breasts separated from his chest by just a thin shift. Maneuvering them back to the bed, he lifted her on the edge before stepping back to remove his trousers. She watched him with an almost eager look before lifting first one leg and then the other to roll her stockings down and off her legs. Staring at her in fascination, he had let his trousers drop to the floor before realizing that he'd neglected to remove his shoes. He had an awkward moment of trying to get his shoes off while almost getting tangled in his trousers before he finally stood before her in nothing but his undershorts. Her eyes trailed down his body, and he fought the urge to cover himself. If she wanted to reject him there was still time and with what they planned to do together, he thought she at least deserved to see him. After enduring her perusal for a moment, he moved to the bed. She scooted back to give him room and reached for him as he lay down. He pulled back slightly. At her confused look, he whispered hoarsely, "Elsie, I want to please you. This will all be over very quick if you touch me. Trust me and let me take the lead in this, please."

She nodded and lay back with her arms at her sides. He lay down beside her and let his hand rest on her hip, just at the edge of her shift. The fantasy that he'd had earlier in the evening came vividly back to his mind and he leaned down to whisper his question in her ear, "Elsie, when you touch yourself, do you think of anyone?"

She stared at him for a moment before giving a quick nod. He asked again, "Who do you think of?"

She hesitated, cheeks pink, and he offered up his own confession, "Would it help if I told you that I think of you? I do. It costs me nothing to say it. It's your hands I imagine are touching me."

Her breath quickened and her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. He knew he'd struck a chord with her. He leaned down to kiss her, and she whispered against his lips, "You, Charles, I think of you."

He rewarded her with a deep kiss and pushed her shift down enough to free one breast. Rolling her nipple gently between thumb and forefinger, he leaned down again, "Do you touch your breasts? Because that would be the first thing I would do," at her answering nod, he continued, "but then I would do this." And he bent to draw her nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around before flicking it over the tip. She moaned and clutched him closer to her breast. He tried to push her shift out of the way so that he could get to her other breast, but the fabric was being frustratingly unhelpful. Finally encouraged by her writhing beneath him, he just ripped the bodice so that he could capture her other nipple in his mouth and give it the same attention. She moaned his name and gripped his shoulders tightly, spurring him on eagerly.

Pulling back after exploring her breasts fully, he reached down to the hem of her shift, inching it up her legs and out of the way. Reaching behind her, he undid the tie of her knickers and grasped them with both hands to pull them off. He let his fingers trail back up her inner thigh but paused before reaching his goal so that he could whisper in her ear again. A small whimper of disappointment escaped her, and he leaned down again to kiss her hungrily. Whispering against her lips, he said, "I want you to tell me how you touch yourself so that I can please you. If you don't think you can, you can just show me."

She reached down and grasped his hand bringing it through her wet curls until his fingers rested on the small nub that he knew would give her the most pleasure. She was already moist and hot against his hand. He began to swirl his finger around her nub and then flick it lightly. Her hips bucked against him as she moaned in his ear. He continued with this slow torture until her thighs were trembling, and then he pushed one finger inside, hooking it slightly as he began to move it slowly in and out. Her eyes opened wide and her hips twisted. Leaning down he whispered his question against her breast before once more capturing her nipple in his mouth, "You've never done anything like that before, have you?"

"Oh, no. No. Oh, Charles, please…" she moaned as she writhed against his hand. He slipped another finger inside and began to spread them apart slightly, trying to stretch her. He knew this would be painful for her, but if she were very ready, he thought it might help. She opened her eyes again and whispered against his ear, "Charles, I know it will hurt, but I want you inside me. I trust you."

Removing his fingers, he pushed his undershorts down and kicked them off before positioning himself at her entrance. He wanted desperately to plunge deep inside and begin the thrusts that would bring him to a quick release, but he wanted to please her more. Pushing himself in as slowly as he could stand, he tried to let her get used to him inch by inch. He met resistance and opened his eyes to see that she was biting her lower lip to hold back any sounds. Bending, he kissed her and drew her lower lip into his mouth before pushing past the last barrier. He caught her cry of pain in his mouth and held himself still, completely sheathed within her. Every instinct told him to move, to slide, to thrust. His thighs ached with the effort of holding himself back, but he held his control. He would not move until she was ready. Then, she began to move under him, pushing her hips against him, encouraging him to begin. The dam broke inside him again, and he began to thrust quick and hard and deep. It was mere moments before her inner muscles began to tighten around him rhythmically, and he heard her softly gasping his name against his cheek. His own moans of her name were drowned out by the rushing sound of blood in his ears.

He fell to her side completely and utterly exhausted from the effort of holding back for so long. Fighting the urge to sleep, he began to kiss her shoulder gently. If he fell asleep now, he wasn't sure how many days it would be before he woke up. Needing affirmation from her, he asked, "Was that good?"

She laughed, "Good? Oh, Charles, good doesn't begin to describe it. But we're such fools."

"Fools?" he asked, sitting up and scooting back so that he could lean against the headboard.

"Fools to think we could set any limits on this. Charles, if I'm ever fortunate enough to find you alone in the wine cellar, there's no way I could resist wanting this, no matter if I'm to be Mrs. Hughes or Elsie. You could have me anywhere you wanted me, your desk, behind the bicycle shed, my parlor, or your pantry. Goodness, if you wanted to take me in the middle of the staff table, I don't think I could resist."

He laughed; fully awake now, "I think we can avoid the staff table at least. No point in giving anyone a heart attack."

She laughed with him and lay down against his chest, "I'm sorry you didn't get to eat your biscuits."

"Elsie, this was far better than biscuits," he said, drawing her closer.

"Better than biscuits, am I? High praise indeed coming from you," she teased.

"Now Elsie, you must know where you fit in things," he teased back, "Biscuits are better than cabbage. Spending time with you doing anything is better than a trip to Ripon. And making love to you is better than, well, everything but breathing."

She gasped and stiffened slightly. Sitting up, she looked at him with wide eyes, "Did you mean that?"

"What? That biscuits are better than cabbage? Of course I meant it."

"No; I meant the last," she said watching him carefully, "Was it making _love_?"

_**Reviews are welcome as always.**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Thank all of you for the wonderful reviews, alerts, and 'favorites'. I really do appreciate them. I hope that you enjoy this chapter as well. I'm sorry for the slight delay in updating. It takes a little bit longer for me to do Elsie's POV. **_

_**Disclaimer: They still don't belong to me and I still receive no monetary recompense.**_

_**Additional disclaimer: I don't 'tumble', but based on what Batwings has told me I should probably add the warning that this should not be read at work or the university library. **_

Elsie sat up in amazement at Charles's words. Did he mean what she thought he meant? It would confirm what her suspicions had been as she came up to the room. She asked him if he truly meant love and watched expectantly. Surely he wouldn't lie would he? She'd never known him to be untruthful, even if it was painful. He might hide the truth but he would never actually lie.

He shifted his shoulders uncomfortably and looked away, "Of course I meant making love. That is what one calls what we've just done, isn't it?"

She watched him carefully and thought about whether she should just let it go. They had had a wonderful, no a glorious time. She had never known anything could quite feel like that. She should let it go, and they could discuss this some other time, but she couldn't get the niggling feeling that she had while she was climbing the stairs out of her mind. And if he felt for her what she felt for him, she wanted to know. She wanted him to know how she felt.

"That's not what you called it earlier. You said that we would be 'helping' each other," she said watching him carefully.

"And is that not what we did?" he asked and began to caress her hip lightly.

She leaned into his touch and almost forgot her question, until she realized that was what he wanted her to do. Well, perhaps she could try to distract him as well. She leaned over him, being sure to let her hair brush his chest and nipped lightly at his neck. She was pleased to hear a soft moan escape his lips.

"Well, you certainly helped me, but I don't know if I lived up to my end. Perhaps I should help you some more," she whispered against his neck as she shifted so that she straddled the leg closest to her and pressed her breasts tightly against his chest. There was nothing soft about his moan this time.

"Well, you, um…, that is…" he groaned before she captured his lips. When she pulled back for a moment, he said, "Elsie, you needn't worry about me. I think I've been quite well taken care of."

She moved so that one knee was on either side of his hips and leaned down to kiss him again, being sure once again to press her breasts tight against his chest, "Charles, we had an agreement, and I intend to live up to it."

"No matter how much I might want that right now, the reality is that it takes a bit longer for men to recover."

"It does?" she said, surprised at how disappointed she felt.

His smile turned a little smug at the sound of disappointment in her voice, but considering how incredibly good she still felt and that he was responsible for it, she decided not to comment. She shifted her legs so that they lay full-length along his and put her head on his chest. Tracing the underside of his ribs, she asked, "Do you think you'll be recovered by tomorrow night?"

He laughed and his chest vibrated against her cheek, "Elsie, it doesn't take days, just a little longer than fifteen minutes. Actually, I was hoping that if you…"

She lifted her head to look at him, "With the family gone, none of the servants need to be up before at least six o'clock. I see no reason to leave this room before five. That gives us six hours yet."

"My thoughts exactly," he nodded emphatically before pulling her head back down to his chest. As she lay here with him, she began to wonder about the same things she had thought of on the way up to the room.

"Charles, you said earlier that who one was with was more important than what one was doing. Does that mean that you'd rather be with me than," here she paused and decided to use the same term he had, "making love?"

His thumb paused in its exploration of her shoulder blade, and he took a deep breath. She thought for a moment he wasn't going to answer before he said cautiously, "That depends."

"Depends on what?"

He gave a frustrated growl before pushing her to sit up so that he could look at her, "I should have known you wouldn't let this go. Very well, that is impossible for me to answer because being with anyone else in this way would not be making love. It would be just two people having their needs met."

"Do you mean…?"

"I said love and I mean love. I love you, Elsie Hu…"

His words were cut off by her lips and invading tongue. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and drew him as close to her as she possibly could. It took him a moment to recover but she quickly felt his arms wrapping tightly around her as he participated just as eagerly in the kiss.

When she finally pulled back to breathe for a moment, he looked at her with an amazed smile, "I take it that that means you might have similar feelings?"

"I might," she said, "if love means that I want you to be the first person I see each morning and the last every night and that you're the one I want to share all my happiness and sadness with and that sometimes I can't sleep at night for thought of touching you and you touching me."

She didn't think it was possible for his smile to get wider, but it did, "I believe that's a fair description of love. At least that's how I think of you."

She leaned down to kiss him again, pressing her breasts against his chest. She ran her hands down his sides to the lowest part of his back she could reach and arched against his hands as he smoothed them down her back to caress her bottom and draw her against him.

She pulled back to look at him with a wicked smile, "That doesn't feel like you need more time to recover."

"No; I believe I am fully recovered and at your service to meet any needs, wants, or desires that you might have," he said as he pressed himself closer to her.

She moved to lay by his side, "I was wondering if perhaps, well, you told me that you've imagined me touching you. Would you mind very much showing me how you would like me to touch you?"

His pupils dilated and his breathing sounded ragged and harsh in her ear, "Why don't you just touch me in any way you like, and I'll tell you if I imagined it differently."

She smoothed her hand across his chest, tracing first one nipple and then the other with the tip of her finger. Then she let her fingers trail down his abdomen, feeling the texture of the hairs changed from soft and curly to stiffer and wiry. As her hand approached, she felt him twitch hard and brush the back of her hand. She let her knuckles trail up the length of him until she reached the top where she ran the tip of her finger around him and explored the small cleft more fully, rubbing her finger back and forth a few times before pausing.

"Is this what you imagined?"

His voice was hoarse and urgent, "Yes, yes, and more. Just, for heaven's sake, don't stop."

She ran her hand down his length and then gripped him. Her imagination had been right about how hot and hard he would be. She was surprised by the smoothness of his skin. She smiled at the thought that old wives' tales did have some truth to them after all. As she ran her hand up and down the length of him, she would occasionally let her thumb graze over the tip. It gratified her to hear his breathing grow more and more rapid until finally he reached down almost frantically and stilled her hand. Just touching him and thinking of how he might have imagined this on so many nights had excited her as well.

She began to think of how she might have been lying in her own bed imagining him touching her at the same time as he imagined her touching him. That thought nearly had her mad with desire. She rose over him, and he guided her down his length. There was no pain this time, only a wonderful feeling of stretching as he filled her completely. With his hand on her hips, he urged her to begin and she rose and fell slowly, alternating the angle and the rhythm until she found the perfect combination. Just when she had almost found her release, he reached between them to run his thumb over her center. She gasped as lights exploded behind her eyes and her mind was overwhelmed by the most pleasure that she'd ever known. She moved her hips frantically a few more times before slumping against him in exhaustion. He grasped her hips and thrust upward a few more times before gasping her name in her ear over and over and falling back against the bed himself.

Panting, he said, "Elsie, love, darling, wonderful glorious Elsie. I didn't think it was possible to be any more tired, but I don't think I could actually move right now."

She smiled against his chest, "I think you've more than adequately taken care of my needs tonight."

She moved to lie against his side and resumed her caresses of his chest. He continued to hold her close to his side and stroked up and down her back, letting his thumb graze the underside of her shoulder once again.

After several long moments, he cleared his throat, "Did you just decide tonight that you loved me? After we'd…"

"Charles, do you really think I could give you my body if you didn't already have my heart?"

"Then when?"

"Oh, two years at least," she said through a yawn.

"You mean you don't know when you fell in love with me?" he asked in mock astonishment.

"I don't know that I ever did," and continued soothingly when his shoulders shifted uncomfortably, "I just looked at you one night and realized that I loved you and you were the only man I could ever love. Don't tell me you fell in love with me at first sight."

"No; not love. Lust at first sight perhaps," he said thoughtfully.

"Charles!"

"Really, Elsie, considering I waited five years to do anything about it, I think I showed admirable self-restraint. You do have a lovely bottom, though. Quite disturbs my equilibrium to follow you up the stairs."

"Perhaps your restraint is a little too admirable."

"Perhaps," he agreed, "I suppose I fell in love with you the same way, but I do know exactly when I realized that I was."

"Charles, you can just tell me. You don't have to satisfy your need for the dramatic. Goodness. If I didn't know better I would think you'd been on the stage."

His shoulders shifted a little again and he said, "I'll choose to ignore that, young lady, because of your activities earlier this evening, but don't push your luck."

She laughed and batted his chest lightly. He grasped her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers, "Elsie, love, one night the first Season after you became housekeeper, I had been to a play and stopped by the pub on the way home for a pint. As I was drinking a, ahem, 'woman' approached me and let me know that she was interested if I was interested."

"Charles, I don't know that you should really be telling me…" she began to push away from him

He tightened his hold on her, "Let me finish, please. I didn't even consider it. When she made her proposition, all I could think about was how eager I was to get home so that I could write to you describing the play. I realized then that I must love you. Why else would I rather write to you than well, satisfy my baser needs?"

"Why else indeed?" she asked tightening her own hold on him.

He kissed her gently on the forehead and said, "The question now is, where do we go from here?"

_**Reviews are welcome and appreciated as always.**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Sorry for the delay. I apologize that this is just a 'talking' chapter, so no additional disclaimers here. There will be a bit more fun in the next chapter. **_

_**Disclaimer: Still don't own them.**_

She stiffened a little at his side, "Why do we need to go anywhere from here?"

He was astonished, "Elsie, we've just told each other that we love each other. Surely that means something."

"I would argue that the way we showed each other that we love each other means more," she said softly.

He laughed against her hair, "Yes; that was rather astonishingly, amazingly wonderful as well."

She sat up to look at him, "Charles, we've been in love with each other for years. We just know it now. I don't know that it makes that much difference. Other than the fact that I want you to do that to me every chance we get for the rest of our lives."

Whenever he thought he had this woman figured out she did something that turned his thoughts completely around. "Elisabeth Hughes; I have every intention of making love to you as often as humanly possible until I'm completely incapacitated or dead, but I still feel that it makes a difference in other areas of our lives as well."

She tilted her head slightly to the side as though it was necessary to see him at a new angle, "Such as?"

"Such as, I want to spend as much time with you as I am able. I want the right to look after you if you are ill. I want to make sure that you are provided for after I am gone. In short, I want the right to take care of you as you deserve to be taken care of." He leaned forward as his words grew more and more emphatic until his face was mere inches from hers.

She leaned forward to give him a quick, light kiss before she spoke, "I'm not sure that I know what you're saying."

His eyebrows rose and his lip curved in a half smile, "I'm not entirely sure that I know myself. Perhaps I'm suggesting that we should take a trip to Ripon ourselves."

She laughed softly and looked away for a moment before saying lightly, "I thought what we just did, twice, was to avoid a trip to Ripon."

"You're cheeky when you're satisfied, aren't you?" he said and then grasped her bottom to shift her closer, "Although they are very nice cheeks."

"Charles," she admonished cheeks turning pink.

He turned serious again, "Elsie, any trip that we took to Ripon would need to be in daylight for that is when the registrar's office is open."

It was her turn to look at him in astonishment, "Do you mean get married? Leave Downton? Are you sure that you'd want to do that?"

"Marry you? Definitely. Leave Downton? I'm not so sure," he answered grimly.

"Surely you know that is what we'd likely have to do if we were married," she said watching his reaction carefully.

His face sobered a little, "Yes, I suppose we would. I have to admit that as much as I would like to be with you, the thought frightens me a little. It's not as though people are exactly eager to hire a broken down old man. I'm not really sure what I would find to support you."

"Broken down old man? It certainly didn't seem that way to me earlier," she scoffed.

He smiled in pride, "I doubt there's a legal way to earn a living doing anything we did earlier."

"Too bad," she shook her head with a smile.

"Elsie Hughes!" he exclaimed in mock astonishment before continuing more seriously, "We would only have to leave if others knew of our marriage."

"So we would marry in secret and remain the same to all outward appearances?"

"Yes; that is one possible solution," he said watching her carefully as well.

She turned away slightly, "I don't know that that's something I want."

"It's not?" he asked surprised as he let his hand drop from its caresses.

She turned back to him, "Let me say that better. I don't know that I want that yet. Charles, you've gone from being my good friend that I am in love with to my lover in every way in the course of a few hours. Do we have to get engaged before the night is over as well? Can we not just enjoy this for now?"

His shoulders relaxed visibly and his smile returned, "Perhaps that would be for the best. After all the family is still away for three more days."

"And two nights," she added significantly.

"And two nights," he agreed with a nod of his head, "Could you perhaps neglect to make up this room for at least one more night?"

"If you promise not to tell the butler; he's quite a stuffy old fellow, and I'm afraid he wouldn't approve," she answered mischievously.

"I would never reveal your secret. Do you want me to have a talk with the old stick in the mud for you? I don't like the thought of him interfering with your fun," he matched her mood.

"No; I can take care of my butler quite well by myself, but thank you for the offer," she said and then started to rise, "Now, I really should go to my own room if I'm to be worth anything at all tomorrow night, or rather tonight."

He held her down, "Well, we can't have you tired tonight, can we? But why don't you sleep here? I would certainly like to see you well rested for any way you might like to 'help' me tonight."

"And what about you?" she asked, already settling herself down to lie on his chest, "Do you not need some rest for the day and night ahead as well?"

"For now I would like to spend the rest of the night with the woman I love in my arms instead of sleeping, and since the family is away, I could spend the afternoon in my sitting room 'working on accounts'. Just don't let anyone come in if they hear loud snores."

She yawned against his chest, "Is that what you do all those afternoons? Now I know all your secrets."

"Just don't tell the housekeeper. She's quite a stickler for doing things the proper way, and I wouldn't want to get on her bad side."

He heard the smile in her voice as she answered, "I don't think you could ever get on her bad side again, and if you do you could use your talents to get back on her good side."

He snorted, "So if we're arguing about the dinner service, I should just take you to your parlor and make mad love to you."

"Mmmmhmmm, or the staff table," she murmured.

His next retort was cut off by her soft snores, so he simply drew her closer to his chest as he formed his plan to convince her over the next two days to become Mrs. Charles Carson.

_**Reviews are always welcome.**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**More talking and flirtation because I just can't get these two to stop flirting with each other.**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own them nor earn anything from them.**_

Elsie washed and dressed carefully for the day in a state of excitement that she'd not had since she was a very young woman. There was really no good way to describe how she felt. Perhaps the most surprising thing was how desirable she felt. The way Charles looked at her made her pulse race even before he touched her, and the way that he touched her nearly made her blood boil. Her imagination had not remotely approached how wonderful it felt to have his hands on her and when he was inside her it nearly overwhelmed her. With a deep sigh, she pressed her hands to her face. She had to stop this train of thought. She was going to have to face the man again in just a few moments and somehow she had to do that without blushing, or smiling too broadly, or jumping in his lap, or pushing him down on the staff table and having her way with him. For goodness sake! There her mind went again on paths it should not go. She took a deep breath and smoothed her skirts down to gain control of her wayward mind before stepping through her door.

By the time she had made it down the steps to the servants' hall for breakfast, her mind had her wayward body under control. She was even able to think that she'd been a little silly. After all, she was a grown woman, not a woman of the world certainly, but not an addle-pated school girl either. She would be able to face this man with ease during the day and be as professional as possible while enjoying his body thoroughly at night. Unfortunately, all her new self-confidence faded when she walked into the hall to see him seated at the staff table. He rose quickly when she entered as was his custom and turned to look at her. She felt a searing flame of desire run down her spine and then when he murmured his good morning she felt a rush of warmth at her center. It really wasn't fair. No man should have a voice that could do that to a woman. She managed to seat herself without blushing or appearing too nervous. Fortunately, none of the staff was paying a bit of attention to either of them. The men were all looking decidedly the worse for wear and many were clutching no doubt sore heads, and the maids were, of course, thoroughly enjoying teasing them. She would probably have several requests for aspirin after breakfast she thought grimly. Knowing exactly how they had gotten those headaches made her think briefly about refusing the requests. Then she remembered that she had gotten up to very similar things the night before as well and decided that perhaps she should have pity.

It was with these thoughts that she turned back to the man at her side and that was her undoing. He had just wrapped his hand around his glass to lift it to his lips. Her eyes were fascinated by that hand. She couldn't help but remember how it had felt curving around her breast in almost the exact same way it was now holding the glass. Her eyelids fluttered shut briefly, and he quirked an eyebrow at her in question. Shaking her head to let the thought dissipate, she looked down at her porridge and decided the safest course would be concentrating on getting the food from her bowl to her mouth. She had only eaten a few bites when she felt his knee brush rather too casually against hers and then come to rest pressed against hers under the table. She could feel the slightest tremor in his leg. A hint of a smile teased her lips as she realized that she was not the only one affected by their proximity. After a few more bites, she felt composed enough to chance another glance in his direction. That was a colossal mistake. Her eyes met his warmly for a moment before being drawn again to the hand that held his spoon. He did have rather nice hands she thought, strong but not callused, with long fingers. She noticed that one of those long fingers was curved slightly against the spoon and with a rush of heat to her center remembered that that was exactly how he had hooked his finger while stroking her last night. Catching herself just short of moaning out loud, she bent once again to finish her breakfast hurriedly without tasting another bite.

She left the table before anyone else and instructed the maids to come to her parlor directly to receive their instructions. Charles looked at her with a worried frown as she left, but thankfully did not follow her. Walking through the door to her sanctuary, she took a deep breath to calm herself and smoothed her hand over her stomach. Crossing to the small shelf where she kept her medical things, she took down her aspirin and waited for the steady stream of male servants she knew would be coming in. As expected nearly all the male staff made their way sheepishly to her parlor asking for relief for their headaches. Once she'd dispensed with them and given the maids their tasks for the day, she sat down in an attempt to quiet her racing thoughts before continuing her day. She had just started to settle her heart rate down when HE entered. For heaven's sake, could he not just leave her alone? No; that wasn't fair. To be truthful, she wanted him to do anything but leave her alone. That was her problem.

He was his usual unfailingly polite and kind self. "Mrs. Hughes," he began with evident concern, "Are you well? You seemed to be very anxious to leave breakfast."

She answered with a kind smile to show him that she was not upset, "I am just a little tired and found myself distracted. I had rather a busier night than I am accustomed to."

"Well, that's good then," he said obviously relieved, "I mean I'm sorry that you are over-tired, although I can't say that I am truly sorry for the events that led to that, but I was afraid that perhaps you might have come to regret last night, and this morning," he finished smiling fondly at the memory.

"Of course not," she scoffed, "you really must take me at my word that I have carefully counted the cost and believe that you are worth it."

His smile broadened to one of genuine joy, "When you say it that emphatically, I suppose that I must. May I ask what it was that had you so distracted?"

"You may," she stalled.

He drew his eyebrows down in a hint of a scowl at her evasion, "What had you so distracted?"

She blushed faintly but refused to shrink from the answer, "Hands."

"Beg pardon?" he asked genuinely confused and perhaps thinking she was more tired than she had said.

A little exasperated at having to explain, she stepped closer to him and lowered her voice to elaborate, "Charles, you may not realize this, but you have rather nice hands."

"I do?" he asked looking down at the appendages in question with a smug smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"You do," she sighed, taking his right hand in both of hers, "I've been fascinated by them for a long time."

"That's very, um, intriguing," he said distracted now by the way she was lightly tracing from his wrist down to the tips of each of his fingers.

It was her turn to smile a little smugly at the quickened sound of his breathing. She continued to caress his hand and turned it over so that she could examine the lines there. "I have always enjoyed watching you polish the silver. It amazes me how skillfully you work and watching you stroke," here her voice grew slightly husky and her eyes closed briefly, "each piece has always fascinated me."

His breathing was certainly more ragged as he answered, "I never knew that you found polishing silver so fascinating."

"It's not really the work that you're doing," she said, pausing in her exploration of his hand and wrist, "It's how deftly your hands do it. I could easily imagine how they might feel, well, exploring and stroking my body. I thought that the imagining was distracting, but at least I could confine that to when I was alone. Now, I can remember how your hands feel on me, and those memories disturb my equilibrium like nothing else ever has."

"Ahhh. I see," he said smiling, "Well, it's safe to say you've disturbed my equilibrium like nothing else ever has so I suppose what is good for the gander is good for the goose."

She looked up into his eyes with a smile, "Perhaps I'll get used to it given time, but for today, I believe I need to keep my distance for my own sanity." She dropped his hand and wrapped her arms around his neck to give him a hungry kiss filled with promise to soften her words.

He straightened from the kiss after a few moments, and she was pleased to note that his slightly dazed expression matched how she felt. She patted him gently on the chest, "Now, shouldn't you be off 'working on accounts' so that you can be well rested for tonight?"

He released his hold on her hips, and his eyes crinkled in a smile, "I suppose I should at that. Just remember, no interrupting if you hear snoring."

She laughed, "Certainly not! I have a vested interest in you being very well rested before tonight."

He nodded and took a step toward the door but paused and returned to lean down and whisper in her ear, "Elsie, love, I have every intention of you being distracted by watching my lips tomorrow at breakfast, remembering what they have done to you." He nipped lightly at the skin beneath her left ear before lifting his head to smirk at her breathlessness and stepping out the door.

_**Reviews are welcome as always.**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**So sorry for the delay on this chapter. I hope it is satisfactory. My chief excuse is the absolutely gorgeous weather that we've been having. It's very hard to sit inside in front of a computer with sunshine and warm weather to tempt me outside. **_

Charles grimaced at his reflection in the mirror as he combed his hair one last time. He had dressed as carefully as if he was putting on his full livery for a formal dinner, even though he was only wearing his somewhat embarrassingly threadbare pyjamas. No matter how much he told himself how silly it was, he couldn't help himself from being incredibly nervous. It wasn't as though this was the first time that he'd ever gone to meet a woman or even this woman, albeit it was the first time he'd gone to the meeting in just his nightclothes. He hadn't even been this nervous the first time he'd been with a woman when he'd just been a lad of seventeen. Not that he was the most experienced man in the world, but he'd had a reasonable share of willing women. He thought back distastefully to his time in the halls and reminded himself that some had been more than willing. Shaking his head at his wandering thoughts, he tried to determine why he was so nervous. Perhaps it was because he wanted so desperately to please Elsie. Never before had he cared more about the pleasure of the woman he was to be with than his own. Not that he thought of himself as a selfish man, it was just that in the past it had always been more about having his own needs met. Now he found himself wanting to anticipate and meet every need, want or desire that Elsie might have, perhaps before she even realized them herself.

What he couldn't understand was why he was so nervous tonight when last night he'd not felt nervous at all. They had even been able to talk logically, for a little while at least. He supposed that the reason there had been no nervousness last night was that it had been such an unexpected joy. He had been looking forward to a pleasant but rather ordinary evening shared together and then going off to their own beds to sleep and perhaps for him to dream about her. Instead, they had shared each others' bodies and the night had been the most extraordinary of his life. Any nervousness last night had been burned away by the pure desire that he had for her. Tonight, he had had all day to anticipate what they were going to do and had known that she was anticipating it as well. With a start of recognition, he realized that this was exactly how he had always felt right before performing. How silly! He had stage fright.

A little more relaxed now, he stepped out of his room. He reminded himself as he walked down the stairs that he was a grown, experienced man of fifty-five not an awkward, naïve seventeen year old boy. She certainly hadn't seemed disappointed with him last night, and he was sure tonight would be just as wonderful. They were adults; surely they could work with each other professionally during the day and enjoy each others' bodies each night. With his newfound confidence he made his way to the bachelor's hall and their rendezvous point. He was a little surprised to find that he was the first to arrive, but he didn't have the same fear that he'd had last night that she might not come. Instead, he saw it as an opportunity to make the preparations that he wanted. He opened the bottle of brandy that he'd brought up earlier and poured it into two snifters and then he turned down the bed in anticipation of her arrival. His cheeks heated momentarily at the suggestion that this implied, but that was the reason they were coming here after all. He had dwelt on her admission this morning of her distraction all day, and his confidence was bolstered by the sure knowledge that she wanted this just as much as he did. If only he could know that she wanted everything that he wanted that much then he would likely be much less nervous

He had barely turned the bed down and picked up his glass of brandy in anticipation of waiting for her when the door opened softly. All his self-confidence faded when he caught his first glimpse of her in her nightclothes with her hair in a loose plait down her back. His breath caught, and he could easily remember how her hair had hung loosely over her shoulder last night brushing his chest as she rose and fell over him.

Shaking his head against the distraction, he cleared his throat and asked, "Would you care for a little brandy?"

She smiled and nodded in gratitude, then crossed to him quickly. The closing of the distance between them seemed to help lessen his anxiety. Her first words came as he was handing her the brandy, "I see you chose to wear your nightclothes as well."

He turned to her with a nervous smile, "It did seem appropriate, and I supposed that I needed to at least appear as though I was settling down to sleep in my own bed."

"Those were my thoughts as well," she nodded before lifting the glass to her lips, "I had no idea what to wear to a midnight assignation to make passionate love to my butler, but it seemed appropriate."

Only a drop of the brandy went down the wrong way, but it was enough to send him into a coughing fit. She watched him apologetically until he recovered and was able to say, "Elsie, either I'm going to have to get a little more used to your comments, or you're going to have to learn better timing. Are you actually trying to kill me?"

"I'm trying to do nothing of the sort," she said defensively but with a hint of a teasing smile, "Those are, after all, our plans, are they not? You told me as much this morning, and I have been anticipating it all day."

She had taken a sip of her brandy and her lips were moistened from the liquid. He felt a sudden need to taste the brandy on her lips and bent to kiss her lower lip gently. Her response was immediate and he felt rather than heard the low moan. He deepened the kiss and felt her arms around his neck, glass bumping the back of his head. Pulling back, to her disappointment he noted with satisfaction, he took the snifter from her hand and placed both his and hers on the small table beside the bed. Able now to hold her a little more appropriately, he cupped her bottom in both hands and drew her as close as he possibly could. Her hands clutched his shoulders tightly and massaged them as his lips left hers so that he could place kisses on her neck, especially seeking that distracting spot behind her left ear.

He felt her hands trail down to his chest and she began to push him firmly back toward the bed. Breaking away from his attentions to her neck with a soft laugh, he took a step back toward the bed.

"Eager, love?"

She gave him one of her best stern looks which inexplicably set his heart racing a little faster, "It's you that teased me so unfortunately early in the morning with what I would remember about tonight. How could I help myself from imagining all day what your lips would feel like?"

He sat on the edge of the bed and drew her to stand between his knees, now satisfactorily at eye level with him. Pressing his lips to her forehead, he asked, "Did you imagine how they would feel here?"

"Not exactly," she answered wryly.

He laughed softly, "You don't have a very vivid imagination, do you?"

"Charles," she answered her voice low and husky, "I have always had an excellent imagination, but none of the places where I imagined your lips can be reached right now."

"Ahhh," he said, leaning back to look in her eyes, "Are you saying I'll need to remove a few layers of clothing?"

Her eyes hooded, she nodded her agreement, and he tugged at the tie on her robe. Pushing it off her shoulders, he saw that she was wearing a cotton nightdress, and he could very clearly make out the shadow of her nipples and the curve of her breasts through the thin fabric. His breath became shallow and rapid, and he drew her closer into his arms. She spoke breathlessly as he nuzzled her neck, "I wish that I had a beautiful, lacy negligee to wear, but…"

He cut her off with a soft kiss on her lips, "Elsie, love, I may have imagined you in a fancy negligee, but as you pointed out this morning remembering is much better than imagining. This is what you wear every night, isn't it?"

At her short nod, he said, "Now I'll be able to remember you every night, wearing that nightdress, and you'll be able to remember me working these buttons loose," here he began to work loose the buttons at the neck, "and pushing the fabric aside," he pushed the fabric to the side and bent to pull the skin at the base of her neck into his mouth softly. He felt her low groan under his lips as she clutched his shoulders tighter. He continued to loosen the buttons while he kissed her neck. Finally he was able to slip his hand inside and cup her breast, drawing it out so that he could let his tongue work its way over her nipple. She pressed herself closer to his questing lips, and he responded by pulling her closer. After a few moments, she whispered hoarsely, "Charles, I need to lie down."

"Are you alright?" he asked in alarm and looked up to take in the flush that spread over her cheeks and down her neck.

"Yes, just, my legs are a little weak," she answered, panting softly.

"Here then," he said and slid the hem of her nightdress up her legs, grasping her thighs and pulling her into his lap so that she straddled his hips, "Is that better?"

"Much," she nodded and threaded her fingers through the curly hair at the nape of his neck. A shiver ran down his spine as the tips of her fingers traced patterns on his neck. He smiled into her eyes before bending to resume his attentions to her breast again and whispered against her skin, "And you'll be able to remember me raising the hem of your nightdress." He slid his hands up under the edge to caress the bare skin of her bottom and let his fingers slide along her inner thighs. After a few moments she pushed on his chest. He opened his eyes to stare at her in dazed surprise.

"Charles; it's really not fair for you to still have on all your clothes."

"I don't have my robe on;" he said defensively, "Besides my hands are rather pleasantly full right now, unless you'd like me to stop what I'm doing."

"Don't you dare," she all but growled into his ear and began to work on the buttons of his shirt. He laughed softly and continued to caress her inner thighs with the tips of his fingers. She bent to kiss the skin of his chest while she unbuttoned his shirt, and another shiver ran through him. Raising her head to smile at him, she said, "Now, every night when you button this shirt, you will remember me unbuttoning it and my hands pushing it off your shoulders." She matched her actions to her words, and he released his hold on her bottom one hand at a time to let her push his shirt off. Wrapping her arms around him, she pressed her chest against his and then gave a soft grunt of frustration. He knew instantly what she wanted and drew her nightdress over her head to lay it gently at the foot of the bed. Almost before it was off, she had pressed her bare breasts against his chest, arching her back to make the contact even more full.

Grasping her bottom in both hands once again, he resumed the long strokes of his forefingers along her inner thighs. She writhed against him, pushing herself closer still. He bent his head again to the soft skin of her breasts and rolled each nipple in his mouth, reveling in the taste of her and the way her hips trembled under his hands. He felt her hands on his back clutching him almost painfully. Finally, when he felt he could stand it no longer, he turned with her in his arms and let her lie back on the bed. She refused to relax her hold and pulled him down on top of her. Burying his head in his neck, he reached down to cup her in his hand and realized that she was just as ready for him as he was for her. She grabbed at the waistband of his pyjamas and worked the tie loose. In their mutual struggle to remove his pyjama trousers, he heard fabric tearing but couldn't bring himself to care. Need had taken over. He could hold himself back no longer and thankfully Elsie didn't seem to want him to.

With one long thrust this time, he entered her for the third time in his life and for the third time in his life felt utterly complete for one brief moment. Then, his desire took over and he began to move slowly picking up the rhythm gradually at her urging until he was finally able to move in the way he most wanted, hard, long, smooth thrusts pushing her hips into the bed. She pushed her hips up to meet him erratically at first and then found the rhythm that he set, soon meeting him thrust for thrust. He felt his release building but held it back waiting until he felt hers. When she tightened around him and bit down on his shoulder, he felt the dam break once again and his release flooded through him.

She pulled him down on top of her and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs tightly around his, holding him in place. He held his weight off of her as much as possible on his elbows and then moved to lie on his side, pulling her with him to lie, purring, against his chest.

"I hope that was enough to remember and keep you distracted tomorrow because I don't believe I'll actually be able to move for several more hours," he said feeling contentment wash over him.

She laughed softly against his chest, "That's quite all right, Charles. I think you've given me memories enough to last me for at least a few more days."

He paused for a moment, unsure of whether he should ask again but decided that he'd never forgive himself if he didn't, "Would you take up my offer of memories enough to last you a lifetime now?"

Her breath hitched and she sat up to look at him, "Do you mean marriage?"

"I do," he answered watching her carefully for her answer.

She sighed and lay back down against his chest, "Charles, there are so many reasons why we shouldn't…"

"And only one reason why we should; I love you and want you for my wife," he said, pulling her closer and bracing himself for her refusal. He told himself that he wouldn't ask again. He'd not let something like this drive a wedge between them.

"Two reasons," she sighed.

"Two?"

"I love you and want you for my husband."

_**Reviews are always welcome. **_


	9. Chapter 9

_**Almost the end. Thank you for sticking with the story to this point. This is the final chapter with just a short epilogue planned. I hope you enjoy it.**_

_**Disclaimer: Still not mine.**_

The words were barely out of Elsie's mouth before Charles was out of bed and roaming around the room in search of his discarded clothes.

He stretched to snatch his shirt from the top of the wardrobe, "For heaven's sake, woman, how did you get my shirt up here?"

"I wanted it off," she stated flatly.

He held his pyjama trousers up with a frustrated sigh, and she saw that without a considerable amount of sewing they were going to be of no use whatsoever in protecting and covering what she considered to be his most important part.

Looking at her in amusement as he tugged them on for at least a little bit of coverage, he said, "I hope you realize you've destroyed my best pair of pyjama trousers."

"I'm truly sorry, but I would hope that it was worth it. If it helps I promise to either mend them or buy you a new pair, but where on earth are you going?"

He paused in his examination of the pyjama tie in an effort to find a way to keep the trousers appropriately around his waist and looked at her in confusion, "That was a yes, was it not? I need to go to Ripon to get us an appointment with the registrar and to buy you a ring and we'll need to come up with some suitable reason to be away one day in a few weeks. Do you think we could find a way to be gone one night as well? I'd like to have a honeymoon somewhere away from here. York is nice or maybe Scarborough if you'd prefer to be close to the sea. I don't think I'd really want to do much sight-seeing, but it might be nice to sleep with the sound of the ocean outside our window. Maybe you could ask for some time to visit your sister. I hadn't thought to ask before, but would you like me to meet her before we actually get married or just afterwards. I'll understand if you want her approval, but I intend to marry you with or without it and that's that. And before I forget it there's a piece of jewelry that I would like for you to have." Holding on to the waistband of his trousers to keep them up he made his way over to the armchair where his robe lay and searched through the pockets. Elsie was overwhelmed with the torrent of information that he'd just presented her with and was only able to process it fully when he paused to make his search.

When he turned back to her with jewelry box in hand, she had finally gathered her wits enough to speak, "Charles, firstly, I don't really care if you meet my sister before or after we're married or even at all. Her approval or disapproval will have no influence on me marrying you. I've made my decision and it is final. Secondly, it is one o'clock in the morning. Not only could you not get to Ripon at this point, but neither the registrar nor any of the shops would be open. Thirdly, if you think I'm going to let you go anywhere with those parts of you showing, you're insane. That is a sight for my eyes only. Finally, I thought you were too tired to move. Now you're as excited as a child on Christmas morning."

While she spoke, his smile had broadened, and he had come back to the bed. He let his trousers drop to the floor and sat down beside her holding a small jewelry box, "I suppose I've had a miraculous recovery. I've thought about nothing but this since last night. I kept telling myself to not make plans, but obviously I don't listen to myself very well," he laughed and rubbed the top of his ear nervously before continuing softly, "When you know who you want to spend the rest of your life with, you want to begin as soon as possible. Be glad I'm not thinking of wrapping you up in a blanket and trying to get a special license, but I do have a bit more sense than that. Now, will you please accept this simple gift?"

He held out the box to her, and she opened it to see a small silver brooch, two hearts intertwined with a crown above. Tears filled her eyes to think that he'd come tonight with this in his pocket. What would he have done if she'd said no? Gone back to his room with this weighing heavily in his pocket and on his mind?

He watched her anxiously and said, "It was my mother's. It's been in my family for years passed from mother to son. I was told to give it to the woman I wanted to marry."

"Oh, Charles, it's beautiful. A luckenbooth. I'll gladly wear it," she said, leaning forward to kiss him, "But what would you have done if I had said no?"

"I still would have given this to you. This is a symbol of my commitment to you, not a bribe for you to commit yourself to me," he answered seriously.

"And that, Charles Carson, butler of Downton Abbey, is why I will love you until the day I die," she said, placing her hand on his face and stroking his cheek with her thumb.

He let his forehead rest against hers, "And that, Elsie Hughes, keeper of the keys, is why I am ready to walk to Ripon in naught but a pair of shredded pyjamas."

She clicked her tongue, "You'll wait till morning you silly man. I'll not have you lose important parts to frostbite."

"Are you implying that some parts of me are more important than others?" he asked with a sly grin as he slid back under the blankets.

She gasped as his cold hands and feet touched her skin, "Well, there are parts that I have discovered to be very enjoyable," she answered with a grin of her own beginning.

"And what parts would those be?" he wondered aloud, "Wait, I know. My nose, of course. And probably my toes." As he said this he brushed her nose with his own and ran his toes along her calves.

She rose on her elbow over him and said, "Your nose is very impressive," and leaned down to place a light kiss on it, "but I was thinking of other parts."

"Such as?" he asked with his arms wrapped loosely around her back.

"Well, you have a nice smile," she said before leaning down to kiss him.

Smiling against her lips, he said, "I doubt I'm in danger of losing my lips."

"I should certainly hope not," she agreed with a nod, "it would be difficult for you to give me any new memories."

"Well, I have just promised to give you memories for a lifetime so we can't have that, can we?" he teased, "I don't suppose my hands would be something you'd miss, would they?" He ran his hands lightly up her arms to gently stroke her collarbone.

She tilted her head to the side and gasped softly, "I believe that you know I would."

A part of her wanted to let him continue his gentle exploration and let herself get lost again, but she also knew that they had to settle this between them tonight. She sat up to pull away from his touch, "Charles, you said you'd been thinking about this since last night. What are your plans for us?"

"I thought I could better show you than tell you," he said, sitting up himself and reaching for her once again.

She caught his hand and held it to her lips, "I meant after that and after you go to Ripon tomorrow."

"Ahhh," he sighed and leaned back against the headboard, "That is where my plans begin to break down a little."

"I see," she said and watched him carefully, waiting for him to elaborate.

"If you wish to leave, I will, although I must confess to you that I'm not quite sure how we would survive," he said, then looked at her seriously, "Elsie, I am not completely destitute, but I would have to find some type of work to support you. I doubt that I could find a job in anything but service, and you know as well as I do that it would be difficult to find a position for a married man. I have just enough money to perhaps buy or lease a small shop, but just enough. If we went into business for ourselves, and it failed…"

"Charles," she said, letting her hand rest on his chest, "you'd not be alone in anything that you did. It would be us running a shop together, and we would not let it fail. And I also have a bit of money saved. Not a great deal, certainly, but enough to help. I think we could do quite well in business together, or…"

"Or?" he prompted.

"I've thought a great deal about this today myself, and you mentioned not leaving Downton. Perhaps at least for now that is what we should do."

"Elsie, that would mean either postponing getting married or keeping it secret."

She rolled her eyes at him. He could be exasperating at times. "I am not a complete nitwit. I do know that. Perhaps we should just wait. We could 'reserve ourselves' for each other, so to speak, and…"

She was cut off by his mouth on hers and lost again in how wonderfully warm and soft his lips felt, aroused by his tongue's exploration of her mouth. His hand on the back of her neck, he drew her closer for a moment before pulling away, leaving her completely breathless. Looking deeply into her eyes, he spoke slowly and distinctly, "I do not want to wait for some distant, uncertain future. I may be able to wait for more than the necessary two weeks but not much more. Elsie, could you go back to how we were before? Because if we are not married, I believe we would have to. I would not want to take a chance on being caught, and you being humiliated. If we remain here, it would still need to be as husband and wife. If confronted, we could simply reveal our marriage. We might have to leave but not in disgrace."

Shaking her head at him, she said, "You give me impossible choices."

"Is it really that difficult?"

Looking away from the earnestness of his eyes for a moment, she studied the pattern of the comforter before taking a deep breath and lifting her head, "Scarborough."

"Beg pardon?"

"Scarborough. I would prefer to spend our wedding night in Scarborough. Then, Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes can return."

"Elsie," he began, but she placed her hand on his lips.

"Shh," she whispered, "I've made my decision, and I choose you. I trust you, Charles, and we'll work all this out somehow for as long as we need to."

He leaned toward her, kissing her softly and drawing her against his chest. Laying her down gently on the bed, she watched as he began to explore her body with hands and lips, letting both glide softly over her with only occasional firmer kisses pressed into her skin. He began at her neck and worked his way to her breasts, tracing each lightly with his tongue. He whispered into her abdomen before nuzzling her navel, "This is the beginning of your lifetime of memories."

She smiled at the thought and released herself completely into the keeping of the man she trusted to fill all of her needs, wants, and desires.

_**Reviews are welcome.**_


End file.
